


Mend Our Bones, Mend Our Souls

by cherokeecaryl



Series: After [1]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: After Promise Day, Brotherly Love, Family, Friendship, Other, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-11-17 05:26:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11268840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherokeecaryl/pseuds/cherokeecaryl
Summary: Hurting and healing are just two phases of the same process.





	1. Chapter 1

Alphonse can’t walk more than two steps without feeling like he’s about to fall over, even with Ed supporting him, his legs shake from the effort of just moving and soon his whole body is trembling along with his legs. Ed stops pulling Al along. 

 

“Al?” 

 

Alphonse can only whimper in response, something that he’s sure is a cramp is slowly creeping up his extremities. 

 

“I’ll help, Edward Elric,” The Major appears out of nowhere, but Alphonse can’t focus because he really is going to fall over and it’s so much—too much. His vision, actual sight with his own two eyes, is going blurry now and the moment before Al completely blacks out, he feels as if he’s being lifted. 

 

He comes out of the fogginess at times only to fall back again into unconsciousness, but he manages to put together he’s going to the hospital, that he is in critical condition, that he can die if they’re not quick and smart enough, that Edward is losing it, and that every person reacts badly when they see him. He once opens his eyes to see white and panics. He trashes and screams and cries _not again not again_ so loud, so desperate, that he doesn’t hear Ed trying to reason with him that it’s only the ceiling. And he keeps screaming.

 

“Sedatives!”

 

“Don’t! We can’t give him anything right now, he’ll die!”

 

“Get away from my brother! Al! Alphonse, listen to me!” 

 

The panic doesn’t fade, it clouds his senses, and once more he goes unconscious. 

 

He wakes again, becoming too aware of people prodding him, needles in his veins, and the overwhelming flood of his senses. The hospital room is dark and mostly silent, but it does little to stop his eyes from watering and hearing the smallest thing, like the sound of footfalls beyond the door, the _drip, drip, drip_ of the intravenous stuck in his arm, and the beeping of the many machines he’s hooked to. His nose, throat, and lungs burn with every breath he takes, inhaling the smell of antiseptic, medicine, and disease. His skin itches, the blankets feel coarse on his bare legs and stomach, but if he removes it, he knows it will get cold in a matter of seconds. Can someone be aware of the taste of their own tongue and saliva? Alphonse is sure he can taste it. He wishes he could drink some water and croaks out his request. The sound of his own voice startles him. It’s different, slightly deeper but not that deep, and it lacked the familiar metallic echoing. 

 

“Just wet your lips, okay? You can’t drink yet.” Edward’s voice is softer than he’s heard in years. He realizes he is now hearing his brother with his own ears for the first time in five years and tears from in his eyes. Tears! He can cry, see, hear, taste, touch. He can do it all again. “Don’t cry, Al, you don’t have enough liquids for that yet,” Ed says and he sounds choked up, too. He’s thinking the same, Al knows it. “Here.” He presses a wet gauze against Al’s lips. The sensation makes him sigh. 

 

“Mr. Elric, go back to your bed now,” a doctor who is examining Al orders. “You are in no condition to get out of it.”

 

“Psh. I’m fi—ow! I’m fine!” His clutching at his regained arm, his expression is full of pain. 

 

“You’re having surgery for that as soon as an operating room is cleared,” the doctor declares. 

 

“No way! My surgeon is not here, and she’s _not_ coming either!” 

 

“I don’t think you are aware of the consequences; you could lose your arm. Again.” 

 

The noise of their voice make Alphonse wince. They are not even raising their tones. 

 

“Shh,” a nurse chides them. “Alphonse is sound sensitive.”

 

Edward huffs and walks back to his bed. The doctor resumes his methodic examination until Al pulls his arm away without meaning to, but makes no move to let the doctor check him over again. Another doctor is making note after note, surely writing down his reaction time, his ability to maintain contact, his movements, and pretty much everything he can observe. He’s a test subject, a never before seen case, and the doctors pounce at the opportunity to study him. That doesn’t bother Alphonse. What bothers him are the fearful looks that can’t even be hidden away behind detached doctor faces. 

 

“Mr. Elric,” the doctor starts. “You suffer from severe malnutrition, it’s a wonder you’re still alive.” Edward makes a sound of distress at that. “Your muscles are very badly atrophied, that’s why you have such a hard time moving around. Luckily, there’s a way to fix both of those things, food and physical therapy, as soon as you’re able.” And the doctor doesn’t stop there. Alphonse has been diagnosed with so many things. Anaemia, bad enough to become cancer if they don’t do something fast. His organs had been one minute away from failing when he was brought in, that’s why there are so many machines around him. His immune system is so weak that anything can affect him if the hospital isn’t careful, and the only reason Edward is sharing a room with him is because they both threw fits at the idea of being separated and Alphonse reactions are not as bad when Ed is there to assure him. An order from high ranking military is maybe involved, too, but Al isn't so sure. He’s also suffering from sensory overload after being deprived for five years and there are panic attacks that apparently kept going off at random times in the night and early morning,though he doesn’t really remember. It surprises him that it has been almost a day already, and he’s been out of it for most of it. 

 

There’s a long pause in which Alphonse just tries to process everything the doctor just said. 

 

Then he remembers his brother. 

 

“And Ed?” He asks when the doctor stops the extensive list of Al’s diagnoses. “Is he okay?”

 

“Never mind that, it’s not important,” Edward says at the same time the doctor replies, “pretty beat up, there are some bad bruises. And he needs surgery to remove the metal pieces inside his shoulder.” 

 

“I won’t!”

 

“Ed, please,” Alphonse pleads. “You worked so hard, brother, you can’t lose it again.” 

 

They stare at each other until something passes Edward’s face. 

 

“ _We_ worked so hard. This,” he motions at his right arm, “was all because of you.” _And Mei_ , Al thinks. It wouldn’t have been possible if it weren’t for her clearing a path. “I’ll do it,” Edward concedes. Alphonse smiles at him in gratitude and receives a smile in return. It hurts to smile, is that normal? It isn’t, the doctor says, but he can do it until he gets used to it again. 

 

He doesn’t stop smiling. In that moment, he’s almost happy to be in pain. 

 

It means he can feel it. 


	2. Chapter 2

The room is to remain dark at first and gradually let light in as the days pass to help his eyes adjust. There’s not much to do about smells or sounds, however. Alphonse wears a medical mask and ear plugs for about fifteen minutes before removing them and claiming discomfort, and so he is left to brave it by himself. He can drink some water now, slowly. It’s amazing that a small glass of water can make him full, but the doctors think it’s normal. He hasn’t had anything to drink or eat for five years, his stomach—his whole body—is remembering how to work bit by bit. 

 

Edward leaves for surgery late at night, as soon as an operating room becomes available. All fatal injuries are dealt with, and Ed can’t push it anymore. Al thinks that under his selflessness and the act of bravery he puts on despite the obvious pain, his brother looks relieved as the nurse comes into take him to surgery preparation. He stands by Al before leaving, holding his hand loosely since he is too afraid to hug him and promises to be back soon.

 

Alphonse swears he can still feel the warmth of his brother’s fingers on his hand, crazy as it sounds. He looks down at his bony hands, the nails that have been trimmed, the blueish veins that can be seen through his pale sickly skin, the almost white hairs, his skeletal fingers. His right hand is covered in tape that conceals the needles that pump nutrients and medicine into his body. 

 

A nurse comes into his room and Alphonse squints at the glimpse of the hallway lights, too bright and sudden. “Sorry, sweetheart,” she says in a whisper. She’s one of his favorites, the quickest to understand Al’s many sources of discomfort, and the kindest one. She’s not wearing perfume (no one in the medical staff attending him is allowed to) but he can smell something on her, only he can’t remember what it is. Lavender soap, she says when he asks and offers to stop using it while he’s in her care. He asks her not to stop. It reminds him of something he’s not ready to admit yet.

 

She goes on to check on his medicine and vitals. Steady and recovering is what she tells him, and though he can’t see it, he knows there is a smile behind the blue mask covering her nose and mouth. He opens his mouth to ask another question but she already has an answer. “Your brother is doing fine. They’re almost done but it might be a while before he comes up.” He thanks her and returns her smile.

 

His long bangs come out of the braid Brother did for him and cover his eyes. This makes Al’s smile turn into a frown. His free hand pushes them aside but they fall back again. 

 

“Hair giving you problems?”

 

“It tickles me, even braided like this, it’s always coming loose,” he complains. 

 

“Would you like me to cut it for you?” 

 

When she’s cutting his hair she tries not to touch him too much, but when she does it’s warm and caring and Al is close to crying because he can’t deny that her kindness and lavender scented skin reminds him of Trisha. She used to cut Ed and Al’s hair to save some money and when she was done she always ruffled their hair and kissed their forehead in thanks for keeping still.

 

His mom. All he wanted was to hug his mom again, and truth took away his body for it. 

 

He and his brother have learned their lesson, but he still wishes he could hug his mother again. A tear splatters on the blanket that covers his legs. 

 

“Alphonse, are you okay? Are you hurting?” Yes, everything hurts, but he shakes his head. 

 

“I’m sorry, it’s all too much sometimes. I’m okay now,” he half lies. “How does it look?” She puts a small mirror in front of his face so he can look for himself. His hair is short like it was before the human transmutation, only his bangs seem a little longer now, but out of his eyes. The short hair makes his already protruding cheekbones stand out, causing Al to look even more like a living corpse. 

 

Still, he likes it. He feels a bit more like himself now. 

 

“Thank you!”

 

“You’re a handsome one. We’ll get you all better and then those girls back in…” she looks down the chart she’s writing in, reading his basic information but there isn’t an address because she doesn’t continue. 

 

“Resembool,” Alphonse fills in. “I’m from Resembool.” 

 

“Well, Resembool girls better watch out,” she winks at him. 

 

Alphonse remembers the time he said he wanted his body back so he could get a girlfriend. He doesn’t know exactly where that wish is left now, so he settles for replying, “I don’t know.” He wonders how Mei would react at the mention of other girls after him and chuckles at the memory of her initial anger at Winry. 

 

The nurse leaves not much time after, surely to go and check on other patients, most of them injured soldiers that saw the worst of the Promise Day. Alphonse drifts to sleep despite his conviction to stay awake until Ed got back from surgery, but exhaustion gets the best of him and his heavy eyes fall shut. He hasn’t slept in so long that he spends more than half his time resting and whatever time left dealing with pain and waves of sensations or staring at whatever visible part of his regained body, as if waiting to wake up from a very vivid fantasy like the ones he used to have those first months in the armor. 

 

He is not fantasizing. It’s real, he’s real. 

 

He wakes to the sound of wheels and a voice mumbling that sounds like…”Brother!” Al exclaims. “You’re alright.” 

 

“Heeeey, little brother,” Edward sings. “I told ya I was fine. _I’m fine._ ”

 

Alphonse looks at the head doctor next to him in question. 

 

“He’s still a bit, well, high,” the doctor says in a straightforward manner. “Residual effects from anesthesia.” Al looks back at his brother to see him, as well as he can in the dark room, staring at his right hand and wiggling his fingers. “The surgery went smoothly. We took some time because we were being extra careful with his nerves and veins. Some scraps of metal were not easy to remove but we got it all out. There was nothing to do about the scar, though.”

 

“Where is Scar?” Edward interrupts. “Imma fight ‘im. For Winry. I’m gonna make her cry from sheer joy.”

 

“Sure you will,” a nurse giggles. “Lucky girl.”

 

Alphonse shouldn’t laugh at his brother, but how can he not?

 

“Are you doing okay?” The doctor asks Alphonse. He nods, but he’s not sure. He’s not sure about anything regarding his body because it’s only the second day back in it. “Any pain?” Alphonse thinks and after a few seconds nods again. “Where?” 

 

“Umm, everywhere?” He tries his best to describe the pain he is feeling, but does a poor job. It frustrates him. He, a scientific genius, can’t describe anything about his own body.

 

“It’s fine, Alphonse,” he soothes. “Yours is…” he looks for the words, “a particular case.” Al looks back at his brother and finds him sleeping. They often talked about what it would be like to have their bodies back, but this is something they never imagined. “It sounds like cramping, which is normal. How are you dealing with touch?”

 

“Still weird, like a shock, but better.”

 

They go through an established routine of questions that monitor his progress, which according to the doctor is going fast and strong, but some fallbacks are to be expected.

 

“Hear that, Al? You’re strong,” Ed says suddenly and opens his bleary eyes to stare at Alphonse. 

 

“It’s rude to eavesdrop, Brother,” Al replies, giddy at the chance to talk to his brother. Edward tries to shrug but hisses in pain. “Don’t move your shoulder, idiot.” 

 

“We’ll be back home in no time,” Edward tells him. His eyes are falling shut again and Al starts feeling sleepy again, so he settles back in his pillows for much needed sleep. 

 

“I’m telling Winry all about your anesthesia induced high episode.” 

 

“You will NOT!”

 

Al falls asleep listening to Edward’s complaints and impressive raging, and dreams of Resembool’s hills. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing Alphonse is so difficult but such a joy. I think that it's because Alphonse is so good, and I'm an evil little witch. Still, I love him with all my soul.


	3. Chapter 3

Alphonse is not allowed visitors for at least a week, no matter how much he and Brother beg and, in Edward’s case, argue. Al’s state is simply too weak and it’s risky to expose him to other people that aren’t medical staff or Ed. They both can tell it baffles the doctors how Alphonse and Edward seem to interact with each other as if there’s nothing wrong, as if he’s not on the verge of death and his brother didn’t just grow an arm in the middle of battle. There are questions in the head doctor’s eyes every time he comes into the room for yet another examination or progress evaluation.

 

Today is no exception. 

 

He is not responding well to physical therapy. The practitioner’s hands are too strange, cold, and detached, his gloves too plastic, his stare too horrified when he lays eyes on Alphonse for the first time. He tenses at that, only causing more cramps and general pain, and he refuses to be touched by the practitioner or anyone. It’s his first day of physical therapy, simple things like holding a rubber ball, flexing fingers and knees, growing accustomed to touch again. And he’s failing. 

 

Tears of frustration are burning in his eyes and ready to fall when Ed steps in. 

 

“I’m supposed to do it, too, right? Why don’t we have a joint therapy?” Ed proposes. Not a bad idea they say, but Edward knows nothing about the correct application of methods. He has a quick reply for that. “I’m no stranger to physical therapy. Plus, I’ll take better care of my brother than you. Just tell me what to do.”

 

“Thank you, Brother,” Alphonse says at the same time Ed reaches out and touches his forearm. It feels weird still, but he can deal with it.

 

“We’re bonded spirits, right?” Edward is directed to press the thumb of his left hand at the center of Al’s palm, then to try and to the same with his right thumb with less pressure. It doesn’t hurt, but it doesn’t feel good, either. Still, he doesn’t pull his hand away. 

 

“I am still quite curious, Elrics, about what you call ‘bonded spirit’. Is this some sort of hidden alchemical research?”

 

“No,” Edward responds curtly. Alphonse says nothing. 

 

It’s one thing for their friends and loved ones to know of their human transmutation attempt, even then it’s always difficult to admit it or even talk about it. But having strangers poke around, whether they suspect or not, that’s nerve-wracking for both brothers. General Armstrong suspected from the very beginning, and bodiless as he was back in the north, he had felt proverbial shivers due to her judging stare. He doesn’t like to be judged or pitied, but he deserves it when it comes to this matter. 

 

“Whatever it is you are not saying could be key to healing faster. I’m not an alchemical specialist but I understand certain basis. Alchemy geniuses like you two, of course alchemy is involved!” 

 

“I’m tired,” Al claims, looking for a diversion. Edward has other ideas. 

 

“A reckless transmutation tangled up our souls. There’s your answer.”

 

Al expects the doctor to at least look confused at the idea, or outraged at the obviousness of _human_ transmutation. Instead, his face remains unchanging. 

 

“Is this the same transmutation that got your bodies in that state?” The brothers look at each other before nodding once in the doctor’s direction. Alphonse lowers his head and focuses on the bunched up blanket and the feeling of Brother’s hand on his bony back. “I have always been curious about body and soul, how they work together. I believe your case,” he says to Al, “is one of a kind, and an opportunity for us to study and prove the link between body and soul.” 

 

Ed immediately gets protective at this statement and tells the doctor to shove it and leave, they’ll get another doctor. Alphonse can’t help but agree with Ed. He doesn’t want to be a test subject, he doesn’t want to be confined—he’s had enough of that—and studied, and least of all being public talk. He just wants to get better and go home to Resembool. Home to Granny, Winry, and Den. A thought comes to him and by the look on Brother’s face, he’s thinking the same. They are both minors, and that means the hospital can’t do anything they don’t want, right? 

 

Alphonse finds himself wondering where his dad is and wishing for him to be here and forbid anything crazy the hospital might have planned for his son. 

 

“You don’t need to threaten me with violence, Edward,” the doctor interrupts Ed’s loud protests and rolls his eyes. “I’m a professional doctor, not a butchering madman. As much as I believe in such opportunity, I’m not going to do anything about it, nor will anyone in the staff caring for you. I think you’ve been through enough.” 

 

A relieved sigh leaves Alphonse lungs, which no longer burn too much. 

 

“I really am tired,” he states. Edward helps him, unnecessarily, to lie down while the nurse checked his medicine for the hundredth time. 

 

“You’re getting rehydrated really fast,” she informs him and changes the bag. “And you,” she points to Edward. “Back to bed.” He backs away instantly, throwing a look of apology to Alphonse and returns to his side of the room. 

 

“You ought to tell me how you do it,” he tells the nurse jokingly. “He never listens to me.” He hears Brother’s protests about how he listens to Al plenty and that he doesn’t have to, anyway, since he’s older. Al smiles and nods, not really agreeing. Just before the group of people seeing to their progress walks out the door, Alphonse calls out for the doctor. He stops and looks at Al with a raised brow. 

 

“When can we…can _I_ see people?” 

 

The doctor takes a breath and walks back into the room to check Al’s chart and vitals for himself. 

 

“You are progressing fast, but it would be irresponsible of me to allow visitors right now,” he tells Al, sounding regretful. Alphonse deflates. Edward’s lips twist in a frown. 

 

“Just a couple of days more, Alphonse. I can’t promise, but we’ll work hard for that, you and me. Okay?” He holds out a hand for Al to take, which he does with a bit of hesitation. He can’t maintain contact for more than two seconds without feeling overwhelmed, but it’s a deal. 

 

He’s counting the seconds to hear whatever reprimand Teacher and Mr. Sig have for them. He wants to thank Major Armstrong in person for ignoring his own injuries and making sure he and Brother got medical attention. He wants to tell the Colonel how sorry he is for what was done to him, and see the Lieutenant healed and ever present next her superior officer and the rest of the team behind them.

 

There’s so many people he wants to see with his own two eyes and he can only hope that someday soon he’ll be able to hug them all without pushing them away too fast. Most of all, he wants his friend to see him, truly see the real him for the first time. 

 

“Heard that, Al? You’re getting better in no time.” Brother grins at him, the happiest he has looked in a while. “It’s only just starting to settle that we got your body back and we didn’t even have to use the wretched Philosopher’s Stone!” Alphonse can swear he loses his body, along with his soul, when Ed says those words, and the memories flash before his eyes. Edward looks at him in triumph, but the look quickly dissolves when he sees the distress in Al’s face. “Al? What’s wrong?”

 

Alphonse swallows a lump and turns away from his brother, not without difficulty. 

 

“Please, Al. Talk to me.”

 

He chokes out his confession. “I did use a Philosopher’s Stone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not updating as quickly as I'm used to because a) life and work have been really rude lately b) Al is very, very difficult to write, so I have to think and think and rethink every word I write. But! Progress!


	4. Chapter 4

Silence, that’s the reaction to Al’s confession. Silence is never good in Al’s experience, everything bad happens in silence. His father’s abandonment, his mother’s death, the creation of that _thing_ , all those years at the gate. All in silence. 

 

“I’m sorry,” he cries. “I’m so sorry.”

 

The bed dips as Edward climbs on Al’s bed. “Think you can stand this?” Brother asks him and Alphonse nods, without facing him. A hesitant hand rests on his head. “Okay. Explain?” He doesn’t sound angry, but understanding. Like a big brother. For all the jokes people make about how Alphonse acts like he is the older brother, and how it is true most of the time, Ed has always been pretty good at the role of big brother. 

 

“Kimblee, he came to rescue Pride. I thought Pride was playing with my helmet, distracting himself. I was stupid, Brother, I thought he was resigned to stay there with me, but he was sending a signal, our location. Kimblee blew up the dome.” He still can’t look at his brother, but knows that when he has to tell him the big part of the story, he’ll have to force himself to do it. He owes it to Edward, because Brother would do just that. 

 

“Kimblee’s dead,” Edward says. “I think Pride killed him. I saw him, as a soul inside Pride.” Alphonse blinks in confusion. Inside Pride? “I guess I have a confession for you, too. I used a Philosopher’s Stone, too.”

 

“When?”

 

“Did you ever think that, since a stone is made out of souls, a single soul could power one for specific tasks?” It’s not lost on Alphonse that his question is being evaded. “Your own soul, for example, when the task is yourself?” 

 

If Alphonse understands what Edward is saying correctly, then Ed used his soul as a stone on himself…for what? Just what happened in the last six months? “What did you do?” Al’s question comes out shaky. “What happened to you?”

 

“Don’t freak out,” he warns as Alphonse turns around to take a look at Edward. His uninjured hand moves up the material of his top to reveal the nastiest scar Alphonse has ever seen. Nastier than the raised tissue on his brother’s shoulder and leg, or the burns he managed to glimpse on the Colonel when he torched Lust. Even Scar’s face is neat compared to this. At the sight of the marred flesh of his brother’s stomach, Alphonse does freak out. “It’s on my back, too,” Edward admits.

 

“What…what happened to you?!” Alphonse repeats his question and covers his mouth, feeling nauseous as the possibilities go through his head. 

 

“Kimblee,” Edward says an explanation. “I confronted him after we separated back in Baschool. The bastard, he had two stones. I made him drop one, but the second—”

 

“—was hidden away,” Alphonse completes. The image of the round stone appearing between Kimblee’s teeth is fresh on Al’s memory. 

 

“He made the mine blow up with it and…I got impaled, Al.” He stops and looks at Alphonse in worry. 

 

“You almost died, didn’t you?” At this, Brother looks away from him. “Didn’t you?! That’s what you meant, you used your own soul to keep yourself alive?”

 

“Yes, but I’m fine now,” he tries to comfort Alphonse. “You’re out of the armor but you’re still scary and imposing when you get angry, even skinny as you are.”

 

“It’s all _your_ fault, you’re always making me angry,” Alphonse says, following Edward’s joking mood. “Pride was there, when you got impaled?”

 

“Ah, no,” Brother answers. “I used myself as a stone twice?” 

 

“I would smack you if I could,” Alphonse tells him harshly, forgetting about being cheerful. “Years of your life could be taken away now!”

 

“Well, I had to!” Edward argues back. “I had to, or I died! I had to, or pride would have possessed me! I’m sorry, Alphonse, but there are some times when there really are no choices left. But you know that, don’t you? After all, you just told me you used a stone.”

 

It feels like the slap he threatened Brother with has just hit him across the face. Awful as it is, they’ve never lied to each other. 

 

“I had to, or Heinkel died, and Pride would have sliced everyone to pieces,” Alphonse says in a small voice. “I had to, Brother. But I made the choice,” this last part Alphonse says in a stronger tone. He used souls to enhance his alchemical power, whatever the reason was, and he would face his actions. He’s not a coward. 

 

Edward lies back on the small hospital bed next to Alphonse, trying not to make too much contact. There’s silence again and Alphonse starts getting anxious, so he tries to talk but Edward breaks the silence himself. 

 

“We did it, Al. We’re alive, and suddenly, that’s all I care about right now.”

 

It’s then that Alphonse realizes that it’s not really so silent. He can hear his own breathing, and Brother’s; he can hear the shift of the gears on Ed’s automail leg when he moves it, and if he closes his eyes and concentrates, he can hear his own heart beat steadily. They’re alive. Alphonse _feels_ alive, despite his unhealthy condition. 

 

“All I care about right now is getting better, so I can see more people,” Alphonse smiles at the idea. Just a couple of days. He’ll see them all, no matter what. 

 

“And get strong enough, so we can go home,” Edward says, his eyes are now far away. Alphonse guesses that his mind went to the dirt road that leads to a green and yellow house. Specifically, to Winry. So, because he is now in a much better mood than before, he decides to tease his brother with his obvious feelings for their blonde friend, which makes Edward dramatically fall off the bed. 

 

“Ed, you idiot! The arm is not healed yet!” Alphonse scolds him. 

 

“Why would you say that about Winry?!” Brother yells and goes back to his own bed. “She’s a friend, that’s all! I just want some peace and quiet!” 

 

“Uh-huh.”

 

“Don’t patronize me!”

 

Al wonders when this stubborn and ridiculous denial will stop. It would sure make Brother’s life a lot easier. And maybe Alphonse wouldn’t have to listen to Ed’s panicked rants anymore, though he does secretly enjoy watching him lose it.

 

He ends the fight by commenting on his brother’s blushing face, which efficiently shuts Edward up. It’s not easy for his brother to speak while he’s smothering himself with his pillow. 


	5. Chapter 5

Alphonse is now beginning to understand his brother’s dislike for hospitals, doctors, and needles. It seems to him that there is a new test every day, which meant blood work, a lot of prodding, and worry for his brother. 

 

“What do you mean another test?!” Edward asks and stands in front of Alphonse as a shield. “You did one just yesterday. One minute you say his blood is weak or whatever, and the next you want to take more? No. You get that needle away from him.” The nurse sighs and explains it’s necessary, that it’s the only way, but Al’ eyes go to the needle and the sight of it makes the pain in his arm from yesterday intensify. His fingers lightly touch the spot where they pinched him, circling the large bruise there. 

 

“I’ll make it quick, Alphonse,” she promises as she skirts around Edward and takes Al’s other arm. 

 

“Brother,” Alphonse says to stop him from going after the nurse. “Don’t take it out on her. It must be done." Edward lets Al squeeze his good hand, but not for long because the nurse really is quick about these things, and Alphonse still can’t take too much contact, even if it is his brother. 

 

“Okay?” Edward checks. Al nods, but fights the feeling of lightheadedness that comes over him. 

 

“I think I need to lie down,” he admits, as much as he hates to. He’s recovering fast, all things considered, but still the doctors thought he remains far too weak for their liking. And so, he still isn’t allowed to stand, or leave the bed. He keeps asking, since he is already able to sit up on his own, when he’ll get to try and walk, but that keeps getting pushed back. He is supposed to start a liquid diet soon, but he is unaware of when soon is. Soon is also the answer they give him when he asks when he will be allowed to see people again; people other than doctors and nurses, that is. People he loves and knows they want to see him. 

 

“I’m not the one calling that,” the nurse answers when he asks her, and promptly leaves the room. 

 

“It was worth a shot,” he says in defense after Edward laughs at his repeated attempt. 

 

“I think you like her, Alphonse. Asking silly questions to strike a conversation?”

 

Alphonse rolls his eyes at the comment, but he knows has it coming, after all the teasing he’s put Brother through the years because of Winry. Even if the thing with Winry and his brother is legitimate and obvious. He’s about to make a comeback when the nurse comes back into the room out of the sudden, and for a moment Al thinks she’s heard them and will scold them, but then he sees the serious expression on her face and he gets the feeling that something is wrong. 

 

“Edward,” she starts. “A call for you.”

 

“Who’s calling?” Edward asks but the nurse doesn’t answer, she motions for Ed to follow her and leaves. “Hey!” Edward follows her and Alphonse waits with a sense of dread taking place in his stomach. 

 

It’s several minutes until Ed comes back with a look of utter shock that turns Al’s dread into despair. Al sits up again.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

“It was Granny,” Edward says, but doesn’t elaborate. He just falls next to Alphonse and stares right ahead. 

 

“And?” Alphonse can’t stop his voice from shaking, his mind goes to all the wrong things that would make Edward react like this. Something with Granny or Winry, something Al fears—losing family. 

 

“Alphonse.” Edward faces him and looks straight into his eyes. Alphonse has seen that look before many, many times. All the times they lost someone. Except now, it reminds him a little too much of the look they both had when their mother died.

 

When they found her dead. 

 

When they buried her. 

 

“Brother,” Alphonse whispers. 

 

“Hohenheim died.”

 

First, Alphonse is silenced by shock. Second, he feels horrible for not considering his dad is his list of people he fears for, because he never thought it possible. Third, he realizes deep down, he has known this could be it the moment Edward came back into the room. Still, he starts shaking his head at Edward’s words. 

 

“No, Brother,” he says. “Dad can’t die, Granny got it wrong. He’s…he’s around here, somewhere.”

 

Edward closes his eyes, unable to look at his brother any longer. 

 

“She found him in front of mom’s grave. She said he died smiling.” 

 

“But he was a Philosopher’s Stone!” Alphonse cries. “He…he talked to me, in Liore.” 

 

Edward hugs him, but Al continues to cry. In the little time he got to spend with his dad, he got attached to him. His soul recognized the father they lost, and the father that could come back to them. But not anymore. Hohenheim, his dad, is gone, and this time for good. “Our dad, Brother. He was our dad. He loved us,” he mumbles into Ed’s shoulder, and a moment after he feels wetness in his scalp. Alphonse realizes that Edward is crying, too. In silence, but he’s crying with Alphonse. For their dad. 

 

“He was a rotten father.” Those are harsh words for a voice so broken. It only makes Al cry harder.

 

“He wasn’t,” Alphonse says in defense of their father, but his justification dies in his throat when he suddenly feels overwhelmed. He pushes at Edward to give him a message to get off, unable to push him away on his own. Edward backs away quickly and with red rimmed eyes he looks at his brother in worry. Now Alphonse can’t be comforted long enough without him feeling on edge. Years without feeling a thing, and now he feels too much. 

 

“Al,” Edward speaks softly. “Please, try to calm down a little.”

 

But he can’t. There is so much despair and sadness and emotions he can’t pinpoint going on, and the only thing he can do is cry and wish he could curl on himself. He can’t do that though,, because the needles and tubes would come loose, he would bleed to death, and his muscles won’t let him move an inch without pain shooting throughout his body. There is a pressure building in his chest, and Alphonse tries to catch himself but fails and falls back on the bad roughly. The pain in his chest and now his back extends to the rest of his body. His vision goes blurry and spots of color appears in front of his eyelids.

 

“Ed,” Alphonse gasps, when he realizes something bad is happening to him. “I’m—I can’t.”

 

“Al?” The machines around them pick up and start beeping loudly. “Alphonse!” Nurses and doctors flood the room and starts checking him over, the machines, and everything Alphonse is hooked on. While some of them are trying to remove Edward from the room. “No!” Edward yells at them. “He’s my brother, you can’t make me!”

 

“Get him out!” A doctor barks and starts working on Alphonse. 

 

He wishes he could speak up, ask them to let his brother stay, ask what they are doing, but blackness takes over, and he loses consciousness. 

 

**

Edward always thought the day he got his brother’s body back would be a victorious one. He liked to imagine they would both flip off Truth, right after kicking him in the butt, and leave the gate to never come back. 

 

That is not how it went. 

 

Edward had known, since finding his brother while trying to get out of Gluttony, that Al's state would not let them do any of that. But he never imagined this. 

 

He has been waiting for thirty minutes for someone to come out to give him a damn explanation of what is happening to his little brother. They removed him from the room like he’s nothing, and now they are all ignoring him as they rush in and out of their hospital room, calling for a particular doctor or medicine or chart. 

 

They should all consider themselves lucky. The only reason he’s not beating them all to a pulp is because he just had surgery, and for all his talk that he’s fine, his shoulder and both arms really aren’t in the greatest state, and the rest of his body is sore and achy after being thrown around by Father and his goddamn explosions. 

 

Asshole homunculi.

 

Stupid hospital.

 

Idiot Hohenheim. 

 

Thinking of his father makes Edward’s scowl to deepen. He’s dead, and instead of feeling dismissive or hateful about it, like he has always been towards Hohenheim, Edward is mourning. He’s mourning his good for nothing father. Except that’s a big fat lie. Hohenheim is a hero for all intends and purposes, and Edward can’t deny that. 

 

Someone clearing their throat brings Edward back from his reflections. He looks up from the floor to come face to face with the doctor that ordered him to be removed, and Edward bares his teeth at him. 

 

“My brother?” He growls out the inquiry. 

 

“Resting,” the doctor sighs at his apparent fury. “Look, I’m sorry for getting you out, but your panicking wasn’t helping his panicking.”

 

“Machines start going crazy, he’s struggling to breathe, and you want me not to panic? Screw you! You’re the one who told me his lungs or heart, or any organ, could fail on him!”

 

“And that is still a possibility, Mr. Elric. Or would you prefer I lie to you? Something tells me you or your brother would not like it if I start treating you like the children you both are.” 

 

“I want you to tell me what just happened to him.”

 

“Hyperventilation, he had a panic attack. It’s under control now, and he’s sleeping.”

 

Ed closes his eyes and lets back rest on the wall behind him, his left hand covers his distressed face. It’s his fault, for telling Al about Hohenheim. He tells this to the doctor and the doctor tells him not to be ridiculous, Alphonse has a right to know. He reminds Edward a bit of Knox, only more open with his acts of kindness. Ed tries to get some of that kindness and the doctor’s obvious fondness towards Al to their advantage. 

 

“Doctor, Alphonse needs those visits. You have to allow visitors. He needs to see them, and they need to see Al.”

 

The man doesn’t say anything, he just nods after a moment and as he walks away he tells Edward he’ll arrange for it tomorrow.

 

With that, Edward makes his way to the wing he is starting to frequent when Alphonse is taking one of his long naps and when he reaches his destination, he kicks the door open. 

 

“Hello, Colonel Bastard! Hey, Lieutenant Hawkeye!” 

 

“Edward,” she greets him with a smile while the bastard pretends to be sleeping. “Colonel, you aren’t fooling him.” 

 

He groans and throws the blankets off his body. “What do you want, Fullmetal?”

 

Edward avoids his question, only to piss him off a little. “Where are the others?”

 

“With Havoc, it’s his first day of physical therapy,” the Lieutenant tells him, picking up the blankets the Colonel threw on the floor and folding them, all while throwing the nastiest look the Colonel’s way. 

 

“Are you still seeing blurry?” He asks the Colonel. 

 

“It’s getting better. You’re full of questions today.” 

 

Edward shrugs at him. “Got anything better to do?”

 

“Well, a beautiful Lieu—” 

 

“What do you want, Edward,” she cuts him off, sending the Colonel another look. Edward wonders if they think he doesn’t notice. Or if they even care at this point.

 

Edward contemplates annoying the Colonel some more, but interesting and fun as that sounds, he ditches the idea. Edward has a whole day to plan for his brother. 

 

“You busy tomorrow?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry for not updating sooner! I hope this longer chapter makes up for it.


	6. Chapter 6

Alphonse sleeps half a day after his attack, which leaves Edward time to plan the surprise visit and worry about how his brother took to the news. He’s quiet when he wakes up, only answering when nurses ask what’s hurting or if he’s feeling alright and he doesn’t move around as much as he has previous day.

 

A couple of hours go by like this until Edward can’t take it anymore. 

 

With his good arm he drags a chair next to Al’s bed, to the side that doesn’t have as much wires and buttons. The sound of the chair scraping the floor makes Alphonse wince and Edward apologizes as he drops himself on the chair. 

 

“So,” Edward begins. “Wanna talk?” 

 

“Not really.” 

 

“Hmm. But you should. We should.” 

 

Alphonse doesn’t say anything and Edward starts thinking of what he could say to make Al speak, and then he does. In a whisper, he says, “I’m just so sad.” The defeat in his brother’s voice makes Edward admit to himself that he is just as sad as Alphonse is, and then he feels it—the horrible feeling of loss, the permanence of it eating away at his heart. 

 

“Me, too,” he confesses in the same whispered voice. “But you’re here.”

 

“We’re here.” _And dad’s not_ goes unsaid, but the words hang in the air.

 

“I’m really glad that he was the father you wanted him to be.” It’s not easy for Edward to be remotely nice about Hohenheim, but he can always go for his brother’s happiness. 

 

“He wasn’t,” Al says. 

 

“But…then why are you so damn sad about the idiot dying?” Edward cringes at his lack of tact when he sees Al’s frown deepen due to his words. “I’m sorry. I should have worded it better.” 

 

“He wasn’t the father I wanted. He still left, he didn’t see us grow up, he didn’t come to us when mom passed away. He was a flawed man, Ed, but so are we.” Alphonse looks at Edward with a mixture of emotions that Edward has seen in his own eyes. Fire, Mustang called it. And he was so glad to see it back in his brother. “He was our dad. That is enough for me, isn’t it for you?” 

 

“I don’t know,” Edward replies. Honesty has been and always will be an unbreakable deal with him and his brother. “I really don’t know. For now, I’m just surprised I’m sad about it.”

 

The nurse opens slowly, making almost no sound and a nurse comes in holding a tray that looks like it’s about to tip over. Edward stands to go and help her but the look he gets from her makes him return to his bed without a word. She’s the scary nurse. At least, she’s scary with Edward and an angel with Alphonse. 

 

“Ready to start your liquid diet?” She asks as she rolls in a table where she just put the tray on. Edward starts to chew on his fingernails out of nervousness. 

 

What if Alphonse doesn’t react well to it? What if it’s too much excitement for one day? What if Al can’t stomach the soup he’s about to be fed, and dies? What if he gets infected by something harmless the visitors have but it’s lethal to Alphonse and he dies? What if his brother doesn’t recover and…

 

“Brother!” Alphonse calls and breaks Edward away from his overthinking. “I’m about to eat! It’s been…” he pauses and glances at the nurse. “A while since I had soup,” he finishes. Not necessarily a lie. 

 

“Yeah, Al! You ready?”

“For what it feels like years.” Al smiles, his first smile since the news of his father’s death, and Edward responds with his own smile and hopes the worry isn’t too evident on his face. 

 

As expected, Alphonse can’t finish the whole bowl. He can only take about ten spoonfuls and he declares he’s full and although he doesn’t say it, Edward knows he's a little nauseated and tired from sitting up without the usual support of the pillows. Edward leaves his bed, even with the nurse’s shooting daggers stare, and helps Alphonse lie back. He knows that Alphonse, sweetheart as he is with the staff, doesn’t enjoy being touched much, and less so when strangers do. 

 

“How was it?” 

 

“Delicious, but can you really trust me on that?” 

 

“No,” Edward laughs. Hospital food really isn’t the best, but he’ll let Al discover that on his own. 

 

“Hello Elrics,” a new voice calls and they both look up to see the doctor standing by the door. “How was the food?” 

 

“Amazing.”

 

“Hmm. If you can keep it down, you call me. If you can’t keep it down, you call me. You boys understand what I’m saying here?” 

 

“We call you no matter what,” the say in unison.

 

“Good. Edward, a word?” 

 

“What’s up, doc?” Edward asks once the door is shut and they move away. “Am I all healed?” 

 

His high hopes don’t live long, they vanish with the doctor’s amused snort. “No, and stop trying. Not even pediatric patients are this fussy, you know?” 

 

“Are you saying I’m short like a kid?!” 

 

“Charming, but no.” the doctor deadpans. 

 

“Then—”

 

“Listen, Edward,” he interrupts. “About those visits.”

 

_He’s going to refuse_ , Ed thinks. He can’t let that happen. 

 

“But you said—”

 

“I’m not saying I won’t let it happen,” he interrupts him yet again. “I’m just going to be extra careful and limit them.” Edward let out a relieved breath. “Just four.” 

 

“A lot of people want to see my brother, doctor.” 

 

“A lot of them will have to wait,” he declares and leaves Edward with an added, “you better pick your four quickly.” 

 

And so, Edward scurries to tell Mustang and his whole team they will have to draw straws in order to see Al. It’s goes faster than Edward thought at first; the colonel and the lieutenant are the ones meeting Alphonse today and the rest of them will wait until the doctor gives them another chance. The other two people visiting his brother are a permanent, since they are leaving the day after. 

 

“Okay, doctor,” Edward says with the four visitors trailing behind them. “This is it.” 

 

The doctor stares them all down, seemingly looming over them while he hands the chart he was checking over to a nurse, and it takes a lot of character to behave that way in front of a woman like teacher. 

 

“Nurse,” he addresses, and picks up another chart to check. “They will be visiting the younger Elric. I’ll leave you in charge of their decontamination and preparation to enter his room.” 

 

Teacher grabs him by the collar, gently but still terrifying, and brings him close to whisper in his ear, “is it that bad?” Edward shrugs in response. Teacher pulls on his braid, knowing that a slap on his head would make his concussion worse. 

 

“Shouldn’t you be decontaminated, Ed?” Hawkeye asks. “You’ve been in contact with us.”

 

“Nah, I’m fi—”

 

“Right you are, Lieutenant,” the doctor chimes in. “He’s going straight to the showers.” It seems like everyone expects him to kick and scream but Edward just deflates and makes a beeline. “Be careful with him and his arm,” is the final instruction the nurse is given. 

 

While Edward couldn’t avoid the decontamination shower, he manages to get away from the scrubs, masks, hats, and gloves the other are given. Edward remains to be the only person Alphonse responds to positively. The boy does push his brother away and shrinks on himself when it’s too much, but so far the joint therapy has been the only physical therapy Al is going through. 

 

Edward decides to go first. He opens the door to check if his brother is awake and when he sees he is, he goes in and leaves the door slightly ajar. 

 

“I have a surprise for you,” Edward is heard telling his brother. “Well, me and the rest of the staff on your case.” 

 

“Did you bring me a box full of kittens?” Alphonse asks as a joke, but the hopefulness of his voice when he says it makes his brother think it’s not a bad idea, but only when he’s better. For now, this will have to do. 

 

“No, nothing as cool.” And he opens the door to reveal Al’s visitors. Sig sniffs his hello, teacher waves at him with a weird look in her eyes, and the colonel and lieutenant Hawkeye also wave, though their expressions of worry are much better disguised. 

 

“Oh,” Al lets out perplexed. 

 

They walk towards the bed but a voice stops them before they can get too close. 

 

“That’s far enough,” the doctor says from the doorway, his tone leaving no room for discussion. “Ten minutes.” And then he’s gone again, surely timing their stay just outside the door. 

 

“Colonel, can you see?” 

 

“I can,” he confirms. “It’s blurry, I might need glasses but it’s too early to say.”

 

“I’m glad Dr. Marcoh could heal you,” Al tells him, and Edward knows from the little frown at the corner of Al’s mouth—invisible to the rest of them—that the use of stones still troubles his brother as much as it does himself. 

 

“Me, too,” the colonel agrees. “There are wonderful things to stare at in this world.” Just when he finishes, he turns his head and looks at his subordinate, who does a fantastic job at avoiding his _stare_. There’s something there though that makes the colonel smile to himself. Edward can tell even with the mask covering Mustang’s lips and nose. 

 

“I’d be lying if I told you that you’re looking great,” says the lieutenant, motioning at the machinery around Al. “But you are looking better, Alphonse. I can see a definite difference.” 

 

There’s a soothing effect in her voice, a voice they have both heard going icy and lethal, and Al smiles right at her. Edward wonders if it still hurts his brother to smile, and makes a point of asking him later. 

 

Al’s bright eyes then turn to teacher and Sig and his smile gets wider, if possible. 

 

“I’m so glad I got to see you again before you left for Dublith. Thank you.”

 

“Silly boy,” teacher reprimands with no real bite. “Of course we came. Even if the doctor didn’t give us permission, I would have broken in.” She scans the machines around him and the worried look comes back to her face. 

 

“I know it doesn’t look it, but I’m getting better,” Alphonse says in promise. “I can feel it. I can _feel_ again.”

 

Edward, and every other person in the room, look at Alphonse in wonder of his optimism and the fact that he’s here, in the flesh. It’s been days and days, and Edward can’t quite wrap his head around the fact that they did it. Even with all the shitty thing that will come with his recovery. He’s here. 

 

“We’ll I’m glad you made it back. It would have sucked if you died. You’re still a virgin.” 

 

“WHAT ARE YOU—” Edward explodes but never gets to finish because teacher has something for him as well.

 

“So are you, my pure, innocent pupil.”

 

Edward chokes on his own spit. Alphonse is stunned into silence and both brothers are turning into an unhealthy shade of red. Mustang and Hawkeye appear to be both mortified for the boys but also highly amused. 

 

Sig just nods alongside his wife. “Passion is a must in life,” he states, and to the brothers’ horror, pulls Izumi closer, which makes her go all mushy and loving. 

 

“GET OUT!” Edward screams without really meaning to. Alphonse covers his ears, winces, and drops his hands. Edward indignation fades and in its place, a deep sense of worry takes place. “Al, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking. Are you okay?” 

 

Edward’s rushed inquiries are answered when Alphonse laughs. “It’s alright, brother. Your raging is the least of horrifying things that happened today,” he says and sends a pointed look over to the Curtis spouses. 

 

“Teacher,” they say in unison. 

 

“Time’s almost up. Say goodnight, Elrics.” 

 

“It’s the middle of the day,” Edward corrects under his breath. 

 

“Thanks for visiting,” Al beams. “And for the, uh, conversation?” 

 

“I will have a steak saved for when you visit us, boys,” Sig says. 

 

“And stay out of trouble,” teacher warns. Ed and Al put their hands up in surrender, and they don’t lower them until she’s out of sight. 

 

“We’ll come back with the rest of the team, as soon as possible,” Hawkeye tells them, laying a hand on the colonel’s shoulder and prompting him to exit the room with her. 

 

“Do get better, Alphonse. That’s an order.” 

 

“Roger that,” Al replies, as if he’s just another of the colonel’s subordinates. 

 

Once they are all gone, Edward slumps himself on Al’s bed, careful not to disturb Al too much. 

 

“Never bringing them again.” 

 

“At least for a couple of days.” 

 

Edward turns his head to meet his brother’s eyes and they burst out laughing. 

 

The pain caused by the loss of their father remains, and Edward must admit that it is evident in both of them, in their own ways, but there is also a relief found in their undying ability to feel such joy in moments just like this. 

 

It feels like healing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am the worst at updating this story like I did with Duty but I'm getting there. One or two more chapters to go!


	7. Chapter 7

“Okay, Al,” Ed says with evident fear in his voice. “Let’s not push this.” 

 

Alphonse stops and rests against the wall, feeling exhausted, but thrilled. His body may still have problems with all the activity, resilient as Alphonse has proven to be, but his mind was too excited to be able to actually walk around the halls, feel the thump of his socked feet against the tile floor, the coolness of the cane handle that quickly adjusts to his body heat — body heat! He has a body and it can produce heat on its own now! With all this, he can’t help but being annoyed at himself and the weakness that clings to his body, and unfairly, towards Brother. 

 

His mind and emotions always remained with him, unlike his body. Perhaps that is why those are much advanced and unlimited in comparison to his physical development, always a step ahead, figuratively. 

 

Late and rushed puberty, however, is beating everything.

 

“I know it annoys you, but please.”

 

“Yeah, okay,” he sighs. It’s the _please_ that does it, that hint of brotherly protection, that makes Alphonse agree to go back to his room and lie down. It’s definitely not that he _does_ feel very tired. “I’m going.” 

 

“You’re tired, aren’t you,” Edward teases, once he realizes that Al has been meaning to hide it. 

 

“Shut up about it, and don’t tell the doctor.” 

 

“Too bad the doctor overheard,” a new voice speaks. Both brothers grimace and turn to their doctor, who is glaring at them. 

 

“Edward,” he chastises. “You may think yourself all healed, but I know that shoulder is giving you pain. Also, you’ve grown and your leg stump is already starting to hurt, am I right?” 

 

Almost two months in the hospital under the doctor’s care has taught them better than to lie. He always knows. 

 

“Yes, doctor,” he agrees, but the little smile in his face tells Alphonse he’s a very pleased with the increase of his height. 

 

“Alphonse,” the sharpness of his voice makes Al’s alarmed eyes go back to the doctor’s face. “Where do I even start with you?”

 

“By not telling me off?” 

 

“I see your brother is not the only smart ass,” is the reply he receives, and after, he does get a sermon. Both brothers return to their room pouting. 

 

“Your brother hasn’t had his body back for a whole trimester, and already your annoying mannerisms are sticking to him, Fullmetal.” 

 

“Hi, Colonel!” Alphonse isn’t mad about what the Colonel says, he knows it’s just to get a rise out of Edward. Behind him, the whole team — they would always be a team, Breda has said — is smirking at the brothers. 

 

“What are you doing in our room?! Get off my bed!” 

 

“I was promoted, Alphonse,” the Colonel, err, not-Colonel says pointing at his shoulder insignia. A Brigadier General. 

 

“Are you ignoring me?!” 

 

Alphonse thinks he sees Hawkeye’s lips twitch a little at Edward’s rage, but maybe it’s just his imagination. 

 

“We’ve all been bumped up a rank,” says Fuery. “Huge relief for me. Thought I was going to be court-martialed for deserting.” The idea seems to still terrify him, judging by his face. Hawkeye pats his shoulder in a seemingly careless way, but Alphonse can see the affection behind it. Meanwhile Edward is trying, unsuccessfully, to push Mustang off his bed. 

 

“Careful there, kid. Your arm, remember?” It was still such a joy seeing Havoc standing.” 

 

“I see you are in uniform again,” Edward remarks, but doesn’t give up his attempts. 

 

“That’s how _he_ paid for what he owed at the store,” Havoc glares at Mustang. A show, all for show. 

 

“You said,” the Brigadier General starts, “The quiet life wasn’t for you. So, out of the kindness of my heart, I requested you were brought back to my team immediately.” 

 

“And he owed a shit ton of money,” Breda adds up. 

 

“A desk job, for now,” Riza reminds them. “Until you are—”

 

“Completely done with therapy. Yes, I know, mother.” That gets him the deadliest glare and makes him backtrack. “Shit! I’m sorry!” 

 

“Anything to add, Falman?” Mustang says and he finally stands. Edward makes a show of removing the covers and sheets. 

 

“I’m telling all of this to General Armstrong.” 

 

“What?” Roy yelps, not unlike Edward when he gets worked up. “Did she send you to spy on us?!” 

 

“She said you might say that. She ordered me to tell you that spying on you is worthless, as you are. She just needs more stories to feed her hatred for you. Sir.”The Colonel (he would always be the Colonel is Al’s mind) fumes and complains and makes comments about how she’s not a General yet, she’s a Major General. “Is this your way of telling me you are to remain North?” 

 

Falman doesn’t hesitate. “Yes, Sir. I’ve found my post there to be my true calling.” His whole demeanor changes and he smiles at Mustang, now a friend, not a soldier. “I am part of the team, though, just off the record. And there’s that pretty Northerner I want to ask out.” 

 

“Ah, Northerners, they’re something special,” Havoc sighs with a dreamy look on his face. 

 

“I don’t know. I happen to find a beautiful woman everywhere I go,” the Colonel says, appearing to be unimpressed, but Alphonse and Edward share a knowing look. A beautiful woman everywhere he goes, for sure, since his adjutant follows where he goes. To hell, if need be, as she did the Promise Day. 

 

“We’re heading back East, boys,” Hawkeye says before they can continue their manly discussion of preferences. “And Falman, he’s going back North. We won’t be here for the day you two are released, so we wanted to say our goodbyes. We should be leaving now, we do have schedules,” she sends a pointed glare to her superior after that. 

 

Then, she does something she’s never done before. 

 

She steps towards Edward so unexpectedly that he backs away in instinctual fear, and then she hugs him. Edward’s eyes go wide in shock and he can hardly return the hug before she lets go of him. She places a gentle hand on Edward’s right shoulder. “Don’t be reckless.” 

 

“You know me, can’t promise anything.” 

 

“Do say hello to Winry for me. I bet you’re just dying to see her.” Edward goes so red in the face that it is inevitable that he rest of the team starts chuckling. 

 

When Hawkeye hugs Al, he was prepared for it and holds onto her a bit longer than Edward did. Just before he pulls away, he shuts his eyes tightly, and tries to burn this into his memory, just like when every other person hugged him. He has been putting people’s hugs into categories, and this is one of the best he has been given. Almost like his mother’s, which he recalls in distant memory. 

 

“Next time I see you, you’ll be completely healthy,” she orders. Her eyes are glistening. 

 

“I promise.”

 

They leave, each of them saying their goodbyes and giving them hugs or pats on the back, until it’s just Edward and Alphonse alone again. Instead of going to his own bed, stripped of the sheets and blankets, he lies next to Alphonse. 

 

“Hospital beds are really small, Brother,” he half-complains, but he isn’t bothered at all. 

 

“Shut up. Let’s plan.”

 

“Plan what?”

 

“We’ll be out of here in a matter of weeks. We are going home.” Home, with Granny, Winry, and Den. 

 

“There’s not much to plan. It’s home.”

 

“But so much more than that,” Edward says and Alphonse agrees whole heartedly. “So let’s just imagine what’ll be like, so the real thing will kick our butts with how awesome it will actually be.” 

 

Edward makes a fist with his right hand and raises it.

 

Al’s own fist meets Ed’s in the air. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with this, we're done! Thanks for reading it and I hoped you enjoyed it!


End file.
